


heart full of roses, future full of thorns

by misura



Category: The Magpie Ballads - Vale Aida
Genre: M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-05 04:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16804072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "What if I said I am only happy so long as you are happy as well?" Savonn asked."If you planned on ever writing plays rather than only acting in them, that might make for a nice bit of dialog," Emaris said. (Emaris in Astorre, after)





	heart full of roses, future full of thorns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alpheratz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpheratz/gifts).



> that awkward moment when you finish a story and go have a look at what other people have written and realize that oops, someone already wrote that plot you just used. in the case of this fic, it's yunitsa's [Coda: A Night in Astorre](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074039).
> 
> after thinking about it, I decided to go and post this as a treat, in the hopes that you might still get a kick out of hearing the same story told again, with slightly different turns and lines. (if you've already read The Robin: the above incident very much inspired Emaris' wry reflection on originality. ~_^)
> 
> anyway, once again, happy Yuletide, Alpheratz!

Savonn died the way he had done everything in life: with much drama, a grand speech and, afterwards, when it would no longer threaten to drown out the words, a great many sound and light effects.

The audience went wild.

Emaris experienced a little bit of the same emotion, though not, he rather fancied, for the same reason.

"What are you doing here?"

Emaris had found his target with a certainty equal to one of Hiraen's arrows. In some distant part of his mind, he knew that he had come to Astorre with a purpose, and that it had not been this.

On the other hand, had his purpose not always been to protect Savonn, if necessary (and, it had seemed, rather often) by questioning his sanity when such was called for?

Savonn looked up. If one did not know him, one might be forgiven for not recognizing him at once.

"You missed the show? What, did the competition have something better to offer?"

"You - " Emaris wanted to weep. He wanted to scream. He wanted, badly, to grab Savonn and shake some sense into him, futile as such a gesture would be.

He wondered how Dervain handled it. He probably didn't, which was why Savonn was still like this, and not one bit changed or improved.

"That seems unlikely," Savonn said. "As there is, after all, only one of me."

Dervain had been on the stage as well. Of course. The two of them were inseparable these days, or so Emaris imagined. He had wished them joy of one another often enough.

To be sure, he did not wish them grief. Still. "What if someone recognizes you? Or him?"

Savonn shrugged. "They didn't." Dervain was a mind-reader or something of the like: presumably, he'd know.

"And if someone had, what then?" Emaris shook his head. "Never mind. Don't bother telling me. You were bored, you missed the stage, you're careless, you're reckless."

"I wasn't," said Savonn, "bored. And of course, it is a great pleasure to see you, as always."

Emaris wondered where Dervain had gone, if Savonn had simply vanished him with a conjurer's trick, ready to be produced at the least convenient moment.

"You told me I would be welcome any time."

"And so you are." Savonn smiled. "Even when yours is the voice of nagging worries."

"Of common sense, more like," Emaris said. He had not meant to start an argument, or raise his voice. He had only wanted to see Savonn, to (he could admit as much to himself, surely) get close enough to Savonn that he might imagine touching him.

"The two sound remarkably alike," Savonn admitted.

"I - are you happy?" Emaris had almost asked, _'does he make you happy?'_ but, he told himself, that was between Savonn and Dervain, and none of his business.

"The moreso now that I may once again enjoy the many pleasures of your company," Savonn replied.

Emaris assumed that meant 'yes'. "Good." He did not know what he would have done if Savonn had said 'no'. Anything, probably, that might have rectified the situation.

"And you? Have you yet given someone a chance at that too large heart of yours?" It was only Savonn's mouth that smiled.

"I'm perfectly happy," Emaris said. "Happier before I saw you here, risking your life," he added, though that was not, quite, true. He had thought, as he knew Savonn had thought, that distance and time would wear away what he felt for Savonn, beyond exasperation and affection and loyalty and annoyance and the thousand and one other emotions Savonn was in the habit of inflicting upon those around him.

Emaris did not pine. He did not spend evenings sitting by the window, sighing.

He loved, though. At this point, he did not think that he would ever stop. He had learned to live with it, to accept and embrace it, and to consider himself the stronger for it.

Savonn shook his head. "Gazelle."

Emaris did not know what part of him resembled such an animal. Perhaps, in the company of a magpie and a nightingale, a gazelle was not such a bad animal to be. One might have wished one had been better to equipped to take to the sky, though, in order to keep up with them, or one of them, at least.

"As long as you're happy, I'm happy," he said and that was not, quite, a lie. It was almost true, in fact.

"What if I said I am only happy so long as you are happy as well?" Savonn asked.

"If you planned on ever writing plays rather than only acting in them, that might make for a nice bit of dialog," Emaris said.

"Ah, but will we make it a comedy or a tragedy? What do you think?"

"I think it depends on what role you want to cast your lover in," Emaris said.

"Which of you?" Savonn said, and that was at once too much and too little.

"Last time I checked, I didn't qualify for that position." It was a relief not to hear any bitterness in his own voice. Emaris wasn't, naturally. His was not the sort of love that went sour or bitter. It endured. It transmuted. It nailed him to his place in a crowded theater as he watched a man die a fake death on a stage, with half of him frozen in admiration and the other half promising himself he was going to _kill_ Savonn the moment Emaris got his hands on him.

Savonn did not like people putting his hands on him, so Emaris had known his promise to be an empty one. There was a difference, after all, between nagging and worrying and saving people from themselves, and doing something they did not like.

"Would you like to audition?" Savonn smiled again, mouth and eyes both this time.

_'What about Dervain?'_ Emaris wanted to ask, but this was Savonn, who did a great many things without any sense of logic or self-preservation, but very very few without a plan.

If Savonn wasn't going to mention the name, why should Emaris? There had been no falling out, no parting of ways. Savonn wasn't offering to run away with Emaris.

Emaris liked to believe he would not have gone anyway.

"I shouldn't think that I would need an audition," he said. He had kissed someone once, he was sure of it. Someone not a relative or a friend. He was positive of the fact, even if he could not recall their name or face or even whether they had been male or female. He thought he could almost imagine kissing Savonn, though he did not think the reality of the experience would be anything like the fantasy, half-formed and mostly shapeless as it was.

"Then, shall I woo you?" Savonn asked. "Bouquets of flowers, showing up mysteriously wherever you go. A serenade underneath your window at midnight. We might make quite a spectacle of ourselves."

Emaris shuddered. "Spare me." Once, he thought he might have been embarrassed, to find Savonn singing at him. And pleased, too; a little flattered.

Once, he had been Savonn's but for the asking and the taking, and Savonn had done neither, except to make Emaris his squire and then promote him so that he wasn't anymore.

"You're not being very cooperative, you know," Savonn said.

Emaris wondered what would happen if he reached out and touched Savonn. Not Savonn's face, but some other part of him. His arm, perhaps, the part of it that was covered by a sleeve. Barely a touch at all.

"Well, you're not being very sensible," he said.

"But I never am," Savonn pointed out. "That's what I have you for, don't I? So you see, if you turn me down and go off by yourself again and anything bad happens to me, that will be entirely on your head. I shall be blameless. Think of how terrible you would feel."

_'Nothing bad ever happens to you,'_ Emaris wanted to say, but he knew that would not be even a little bit true. A number of bad things had happened to Savonn already.

"I think I might prefer a serenade after all."

"Do you think someone might recognize me by my voice?" Savonn asked. "I suppose I might pretend to be tone-deaf and unable to carry a tune. That should remove any lingering suspicion quite handily. You might want to wear ear plugs."

"And have a few flower pots at the ready?" Emaris wondered how they had wandered from him taking Savonn to task for risking his life to planning a pretend serenade.

Not that any such serenade would take place, it went without saying. He was too old now, to take pleasure in such gestures, and Savonn was not so mad as that, to take such an unconscionable risk.

_This is_ Savonn _. Of course he is as mad as that._ Emaris shook his head.

"No taste for romance?" Savonn sighed sadly. "Then, I don't know what I can do to convince you of the sincerity of my feelings."

"I don't doubt your feelings." It might be nice if Savonn were to voice what they were, but that was another matter. "I should hope you don't doubt mine, either."

"Never," said Savonn. "If you believe no other word that has ever passed my lips, believe this one."

Emaris did not think of himself as shy. He was not shy. He rarely blushed anymore. "Then, may I kiss you?" He had intended to ask for less. "Your hand," he added - or amended, rather. He did not want less, but he thought Savonn might find it easier to give.

He wanted Savonn to find this easy, to be at ease with him. He wanted Savonn to smile at him as much as he wanted Savonn to look at him as if he wanted to touch him and be touched by him in return. More, perhaps. Emaris was willing to accept that Savonn's love would be an unspoken thing of words and smiles and almost-touches, rather than a thing involving kisses and touches and things that went beyond kisses.

Savonn laughed.

For a moment, Emaris felt like he wanted to die on the spot, that it was him Savonn was laughing at: him and his feelings and his modest desires. Then reason reasserted itself.

"Surely, for our first time, we can do better than that," Savonn said. His eyes were still laughing and full of mischief.

It made it easy for Emaris to almost overlook the other things he saw in Savonn's eyes. Almost.

"I'm coming with you," Emaris said. "For good, this time. I'll tell my family ... something."

"The truth?" Savonn had calmed somewhat. He had averted his eyes for a moment, to study a wall painting.

"Something," Emaris repeated firmly. He did not like the idea of lying to his family. "You need me more than they." He did not add, _'and I need_ you _more than I need them'_. In an ideal world, he would not have needed to choose. Perhaps, in this less-than-ideal one, he still wouldn't.

"And here I thought all of this to have been brought about by my stunning performance. You, overcome with admiration, overflowing with adoration, bravely making your way backstage to - "

" - to yell at you for your irresponsible behavior? Thanks for reminding me I still needed to do that."

"I think 'need' may be an overstatement," Savonn said. " 'Want', perhaps?"

"I think 'need' is perfectly fine," Emaris said. "Only think, when we really _are_ lovers, you'll be able to shut me up with a kiss. Until that time, alas, I will yell at you as much as you deserve."

"And save me a good deal more often than that."

"Well, love is supposed to make people act like idiots," Emaris said. "In your case, I feel that excuse isn't nearly adequate, but then, every once in a while you do something very clever that turns out well, so who knows?"

He wondered, as he said it, whether this, his tagging along with Savonn and Dervain while they made no ostensible effort to stay out of trouble, would prove to be one of those things. Of course, the idea had not been Savonn's - unless it had been, and all of this had been planned ahead.

Whatever the truth of the matter was, he imagined that there was only one way to find out.


End file.
